Woes of Mortality
by Bryler
Summary: After falling severely ill while on a hunting trip with his brothers, Aragorn becomes all too familiar with the limits of being mortal. Elladan and Elrohir grapple with their feverish and delirious younger brother, desperate to get him home in time...
1. Chapter 1

"It's really quite beautiful, isn't it?" Elrohir mused, turning his face upwards and allowing a flurry of small, white flakes to dance across his face. He inhaled deeply, "Ahh, there's something so invigorating about the season's first snowfall."

Head down and cloak pulled close, Estel hadn't noticed his brother halt until he walked right into him.

Grinning, Elrohir turned to throw his arm around the human's shoulders. "Don't you agree, Estel?" he asked, giving him a playful squeeze. He could easily tell his younger brother was not in the best of moods this morning, but he was certain it wasn't anything a little teasing couldn't fix.

Estel vaguely shrugged off his brother's arm and continued trudging forward. "Looks like the same old annoying cold substance to me." He didn't feel like taking his brother's bait for light-hearted banter.

The snow had been sticking for a good quarter-hour now, forming a thin white veil across the landscape and a clinging chill upon the human.

"Oh, that's right," Elrohir went on, undeterred. "I forget humans have quite a natural aversion to cold," he smirked, knowing the easiest way to get a rise out of Estel was to mention anything about human inferiority.

Estel offered a grunt of disinterested acknowledgment.

"Oh, come on, Estel!" Elrohir exclaimed, trudging after him. "You're leaving your teen years in just a few days' time, at which point this impudent moodiness will no longer be founded." He has to go for that one, Elrohir thought smugly. The second most likely way to get a rise out of Estel was to mention his youth.

"Elrohir, stop baiting him," Elladan said from the lead, turning to address his twin. "He didn't sleep very well last night, and your incessant goading is not going to improve any sleep-deprived moods this morning."

That comment didn't help. Estel hated when his older brothers made excuses for him or showed any type of concern over his physicality.

"I slept fine," Estel lied, trying to keep the defensiveness from his voice. He had, in fact, slept very poorly. The weather had taken an unseasonably cold turn the last couple days, and it had particularly gotten to him the previous night. Toss and turn as he did, he couldn't sleep for being cold. And the stiff, frozen ground had not improved matters at all. His body was a resulting mass of aches and soreness this morning. And not to mention his head. He was coming down with a rather unpleasant headache, and he had stopped trying to prevent it from affecting his disposition this morning. He didn't care to put on a fake cheerful act at the moment. It was too early. And too cold. And it shouldn't even be snowing for another month and a half at least, Estel thought bitterly.

"You finally drifted off about two and a half hours into my watch," Elladan went on. "I don't know if that really constitutes as 'fine sleep.'" He said, trying to be kind about calling Estel out on his small lie. "Were you not warm enough? I put the extra blanket over you, but we should have perhaps packed more. I'm certain Ada was not planning on this unexpected turn the weather has taken."

"Or else he probably wouldn't have let me come, right?" Estel said, a little more harshly than he'd intended.

He felt both his brothers' eyes on him, and was immediately embarrassed by his small outburst. The brothers knew it was a touchy subject. And one that was getting touchier the older Estel got. Their father, Lord Elrond, had gone to great lengths over the course of Estel's life to keep him safe and well. There were strict regulations on Estel's doings—when and who he was allowed to leave Rivendell with, how long he was allowed to be away, how advanced his combat training was allowed to be. Dangerous acrobatic moves that his brothers were quite adept at were strongly discouraged in his case. His father didn't want him getting hurt. His father didn't want him attempting anything outside of his physical capabilities. Because he was a human. And the fact of the matter was that humans were simply not on the same spectrum of physical abilities as elves. Estel knew it, he knew his brothers knew it, and he certainly knew his father knew it. And it pained him.

He couldn't stand the thought of his family—his role models—thinking of him as weak. As incapable. Because he wasn't! He could hold his own in training. In fact, he had gotten quite good over the last couple years. He frequently noticed impressive glances from observing elves when he trained. And the approval was equally divided between both his archery and his blade skills.

And while he was very grateful to be on this hunting outing with his brothers, at the moment he just couldn't help resenting the fact that the cold was hindering him. Especially when the cold did nothing more than bring cheer and "invigoration" to his older brothers.

"Estel," Elrohir attempted somewhat cautiously, "If you're still upset about not being allowed on our last orc-hunt— "

"I'm not," Estel sighed, feeling sorry after noticing Elrohir's timid tone.

"You're turning twenty," Elladan said encouragingly, "And your weapon skills have become more than impressive over the years."

"Ada knows you're growing up," Elrohir chimed in. "It may pain him somewhat, seeing as you're his youngest, but he does see that you are becoming a man."

Estel nodded faintly. "I'm afraid that's all he'll ever see me as. Just a man—a fragile human."

There was an empty pause in the conversation as the brothers continued on, the elder ones not quite certain how to lighten the mood. Then Elrohir, noticing a large fallen log blocking the path in front of them, quickly took hold of Estel's arm.

"Quick, Elladan," he said, gesturing for his twin to take hold of Estel's other arm. "An obstacle bars our way, we must help the fragile one overcome it!"

Taking the cue, Elladan grasped his younger brother and together they effortlessly lifted him up and over the log. Upon setting him down, Elladan poked and prodded his younger brother with feigned concern. "Did he make it all in one piece?"

"I don't believe there are any broken bones. Everything seems to be aligned and functioning properly," Elrohir said, continuing the mock examination of their brother. He knew some of his pokes would elicit a ticklish response and sure enough, Estel couldn't help a laugh escaping.

"Stop it," Estel said laughing, both mad and grateful at the same time that his brothers had once again proven their uncanny ability to lighten his mood in under thirty seconds.

"Twenty years old and still ticklish," Elladan said, landing one last well-aimed poke at his side.

"Seems like just yesterday we were pinning him down and torturing him until he cried for Ada," Elrohir reminisced.

"Or wet himself."

"The good old days."

"That was never funny," Estel said indignantly, shrugging them off and starting along the path again.

"Of course…," Elladan ventured, "we are still his older brothers."

"And still very capable of pinning him," Elrohir went on, smirking.

"And he IS still ticklish…" Elladan added.

Estel turned around, eyes wide. "I won't hesitate to kill you both," he warned.

The twins laughed in unison.

"Fear permanently instilled," Elrohir said, clasping his twin's hand in triumph.

"Success," Elladan said smugly, laughing with his brother.

Estel shook his head in exasperation and turned back along the path, amazed that his brothers had once again proven their equally uncanny ability to completely infuriate him in under fifteen seconds.

The morning wore on, and the drizzling snow continued to swirl gently around them. It was not thick enough to be a complete nuisance, Estel had to admit, but he still wished it would stop. The haze of dancing flakes around him seemed to reflect his thoughts—unfocused and aimless. The dull throb in his head seemed to be worsening, and the urge to cough he'd been desperately suppressing all morning seemed to be getting deeper and more insistent.

His toe caught on a small root dusted with snow and the subsequent stumble it caused lead to a small fit of coughs escaping Estel unchecked. He regained his footing and quickly tried to cover up the incriminating coughing with a casual clearing of his throat.

He could practically feel his brothers exchanging glances behind him.

He briefly cleared his throat once more and willed the deep-set congestion to go away. He could feel a slight burning sensation deep in his lungs and he knew that was never a good sign. He couldn't be getting ill. He refused to be getting ill.

"Estel—" Elrhoir began behind him, but Estel quickly cut him off.

"Look," he said, pointing ahead. "Tracks!"

A fresh set of deer prints littered the thin snow ahead of them. "Looks like a small herd," Estel said, studying them. The prints branched off in several criss-crossing directions. "They must have been grazing through here not long ago."

He quickly went to their pack horse bringing up the rear and retrieved his bow and a quiver of arrows.

"I'm going after the stag," he announced, selecting a certain set of prints to follow.

"Would you like us to accompany you?" Elrohir asked.

"No, thanks," Estel replied, "Everyone knows you two can't keep quiet enough to catch an overweight turkey with impaired hearing."

"Is he implying we talk too much?" Elladan asked, a sarcastic eyebrow raised.

"I believe he was also implying we're slow," Elrohir said with feigned offense.

Estel snickered and headed off into the woods, grateful for a small break from his brothers. He'd been dying for a short rest all morning but he hadn't wanted his brothers to see he needed it. His aching body was begging for a brief reprieve, and his head continued to throb a little more pressing with each passing hour. He felt terrible.

He walked a good ways and when he finally felt he was a safe enough distance away from his brothers, he took a seat on a fallen tree and let loose some of the pent up coughing urges he'd been holding in all morning.

The coughs were deep and guttural and racked his already run-down body. They seemed to come in fits and he had a difficult time catching his breath. How could this have come upon him so abruptly, he wondered miserably. He hadn't been feeling too bad just the previous day.

Finally when the coughing spell seemed satisfied for the time being, he dropped his face into his hands and tried to ignore the overwhelming malaise.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the next thing he knew, he was nearly jumping out of his skin when he felt a hand softly touch his forehead. He started and sat upright so fast it made the world around him spin.

"Easy, Estel," he heard a soft voice say. It sounded like they were addressing a spooked horse.

The world stopped spinning and Elladan's face settled into view. He was peering at him very concernedly.

Estel abruptly brushed Elladan's hand away and jumped to his feet, praying he wouldn't sway.

"You're warm," Elladan stated.

"Just from resting with my head down," Estel explained.

"You're resting," Elladan pointed out—a very uncharacteristic occurrence.

"Just from the inadequate sleep I got last night," Estel quickly countered.

"Estel," Elladan said firmly, "You're ill."

No! Estel thought in despair. This was going to completely ruin their hunting trip!

"I'm fine," Estel insisted, trying to keep the desperation from his voice. "I just needed a short break."

"Estel," Elladan replied, "Please." Please stop taking me for an idiot, his voice clearly said. "Come on," he went on, "we've got to get you home."

"No," Estel pleaded, "Elladan, just let me have an honest try at the stag, please. I hadn't meant to drift off, I'm really not that tired, and it was only a few minutes," he went on rapidly, "The stag couldn't have gotten that far ahead. Just give me an hour—two at the most—to track it. We're still a day's journey away from home; we'll be spending the night out here anyway, what's the harm of a couple more hours?"

"Estel," Elladan replied, shaking his head slightly, amused at the youth's exuberance. "You need rest."

"We're still a day's journey from Rivendell!" Estel reminded him again. "And travelling home isn't resting."

"The sooner we get you home, the better."

"We're still spending the night out here no matter when we leave," Estel knew he had an undeniable point. "And besides, it's just a slight head cold. It's nothing to worry about."

"That cough sounded like more than a 'slight head cold,'" Elladan said dubiously.

Estel looked to him quickly and Elladan offered a small half-smile, "You're always underestimating our hearing capabilities. Never underestimate an elf's ears," he almost laughed but could tell Estel was currently struggling to resist being overcome with another ill-timed coughing fit.

He took a step forward as Estel heaved a little, letting out a couple strangled coughs before regaining his control. "Estel," Elladan said, reaching toward him.

Estel stepped away, making sure the fit had passed before regaining his composure. "I'm fine, Ell," he said, turning away and heading once more along the set of tracks he'd been following. "Just give me two hours," he said, waving his brother off. "I'll meet you back on the trail."

Elladan looked on uncertainly as his brother strode off into the woods once more. He shouldn't be out in this weather, he thought worriedly. He should be on his way back to Rivendell as soon as possible. But his brother was right, Elladan realized, they would be spending the night out here in the cold no matter what. Rivendell was too far away for the situation to be otherwise. Best to have as compliant a younger brother as they could hope for. And Elladan knew if he forced Estel to come with him now, he wouldn't hear the end of it the entire journey home. But still, that cough had not sounded good…

Sighing, Elladan turned to head back to the trail.

When he arrived, he was unsurprised to find his twin engaged in a kind exchange with their pack horse. He was stroking its mane as the horse whinnied in appreciation. True to his name, Elrohir seemed to have a natural way of evoking love and loyalty in any horse he seemed to encounter. Elrohir looked up as he approached.

"Refused to come back, did he?" he asked, noting his brother's lone arrival.

"Of course," Elladan replied.

"Did you tell him we could hear him coughing from a mile away?"

"Yes," Elladan said, "And I caught him napping."

"Napping?"

"Yes. 'Resting,' he called it. But he was asleep. And he was burning up."

"Burning up?"

"He's running a fever. He's running a fever, and he's exhausted, and you heard the coughing!" Elladan went on, exasperated.

"Yes, I did, so why didn't you bring him back?" Elrohir demanded.

"Because he insisted on hunting the stag."

"And you let him? He's ill, Elladan!"

"I know, 'Ro. But you know how stubborn he can be. He just asked for a couple of hours more."

"He should be resting by a fire, not wandering about further in the cold," Elrohir accused.

"Well, why don't you go and drag him back here then?" Elladan countered. "I'd like to see how successful you are."

Elorhir sighed, knowing he would only have similar results. "Valar," he said, shaking his head in frustration, "He doesn't understand or appreciate anything about mortality! Always insisting on pushing his limits."

"He has not yet realized he _has_ limits," Elladan agreed solemnly.

A brief silence settled upon them both as they reluctantly contemplated their younger brother's mortality. It was at times a painful thing to be reminded of. Their younger brother was going to die someday. No matter what either of them did. Estel was human, and it was just nature's way. It was a harsh reality neither of them ever wanted to have to think about, let alone face.

"He's grown so fast," Elladan mused, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"I know," Elrohir agreed. "Nearly twenty years old already. How is that possible? I swear it was just yesterday we were chasing a little toddler around Imladris."

Elladan laughed lightly. "And father thought _we_ were troublemakers in our youth," he said, remembering the mischief of Estel's childhood. He kept the twins in stitches everyday with the schemes he would cook up.

Elrohir laughed. "Although to be fair, we might have been _slightly_ influential of Estel's mischievous ways growing up."

"That might be a _slight_ understatement," Elladan laughed in agreement, remembering how often they'd egged their younger brother on, or actually participated in his pranks and schemes. Estel brought life and laughter and youth to their home, and they'd loved him since the first day he was placed in their father's care.

After a quiet pause of joyful reminiscing Elrohir quietly asked, "When do you think father's going to tell him?"

"Oh, I think he's known he's adopted for a while now," Elladan said, pretending to be serious.

Elrohir snorted, not completely appreciating his brother's attempt at humor. "Seriously, Ell. He's nearly a man now. Has father mentioned anything to you?"

"He hasn't," Elladan replied, cutting the joking. He knew what his brother was referring to. "I can't imagine he'll wait much longer though."

"Nor can I. I worry so much about how Estel's going to take it."

Elladan met his brother's identical eyes. "I do as well."

"He perhaps should have told him sooner."

"I think you may be right," Elladan agreed slowly. "The longer father waits, the harder it's going to be for him to take it." He paused thoughtfully. "But then again, I wouldn't trade these carefree years we've had with him for anything."

"Nor would I," Elrohir agreed, pausing in contemplation. "Everything's going to change once he knows who he is, isn't it?"

"Yes," Elladan replied without hesitating.

Elrohir wished his brother hadn't been so blunt. He hadn't wanted his concerns confirmed so abruptly.

"I know it's hard to think about," Elladan went on, reading his twin's face. "But he _is_ nearly a man now. And he has a difficult path laid ahead of him. Whether or not he'll choose to accept it will be entirely up to him."

"He's going to leave," Elrohir said quietly, suddenly finding himself staring at the dull ground in front of him.

Elladan studied his twin morosely, feeling the same dread he could clearly see on Elrohir's face. He didn't know what to say. He knew it was true as well, and loathe as he was to admit it, he knew it was probably necessary for Estel to leave their keeping. They couldn't keep their little brother safe and sound in Imladris forever. Not when he potentially had such an important part to play in the fate of men. Still, why did it have to be their Estel, he wondered with slight resentment. Why is it that fate had them get so attached to the one human that very possibly mattered most out of all mankind?

"Fate plays an unfair game," Elladan said quietly to himself.

"Hmm?" Elrohir asked looking up at his brother.

"Oh, nothing," Elladan replied. "I'm just still in denial that our little Estel is going to be faced with such burdens. I almost wish we could keep him in the dark forever."

Elrohir smirked. "And just leave the fate of men to its own devices?"

Elladan returned an identical grin. "Yes," he jokingly replied, "Forget men."

Elrohir let out a small laugh, "Inferior, stubborn, illness-prone race that they are," he joked. They both knew he was affectionately referring to one man in particular.

Elladan sighed. "I just hope Estel hurries. Ada's going to kill us for letting him hunt in this weather." The light flurry of snow circled around them unending.

"Especially since we discovered the symptoms he was trying to hide."

"The little sneak." The fondness was still unmistakable in their accusing voices.

Elrohir presently returned his attention to horse-grooming, while Elladan glanced back to the woods, hoping to see a familiar figure emerge within the hour.

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

Estel mindlessly wound his way through the wood, tracing the wandering line of prints laid before him. The few determined snow crystals that managed to sneak through the forest canopy above created a soft, white dusting over the mossy ground—a dusting which revealed the tracks he followed were still quite fresh. He was closing in on the stag.

He tried to keep his mind and body focused on the prize ahead, but both were unrelenting in reminding him how unpleasant they found the current situation. Each reluctant step taken by his aching limbs only seemed to serve in further jostling his pounding head. His body felt like it weighed twice as much as normal and he really wanted nothing more at the moment than to curl up in a ball and let his pleading body rest.

Ugh, the malaise. Whyyy? he wondered miserably. Why now? Why did it come on so quickly and why did it seem to be steadily getting worse with each passing hour? Why couldn't his worthless body just shake it off and focus on the hunt in front of him?

His unheeded frustrations didn't help matters. They only added an unnecessary flush of anger to his already feverish condition. He rubbed his bleary, burning eyes and pressed on.

He realized it had been rather foolish of him to insist Elladan allow him to continue his hunt. What with how quickly his condition was deteriorating. He was cold and aching and in no shape for physical exertion. But this was what they were out here for. And he wasn't about to let an inconsequential and poorly-timed illness ruin their entire outing. Especially not when the stag was almost within reach.

No sooner had he thought that than he found himself in a lovely clearing beset with a glassy body of water—too large to be considered a pond, yet not quite large enough to be called a lake. And directly across the water Estel spotted the stag—graceful and regal as it grazed upon the clearing's meager greens.

Stepping lightly, Estel cautiously unshouldered his bow. He slowly approached the water's edge, his gaze fixed steadily on his target fifty yards ahead. Reaching back, he slipped an arrow from the quiver and continued inching forward onto an old decrepit log that stretched out across the water. He was just about to draw his bow taut when he felt a familiar tingle deep in his midsection. A split second later it was a full-on burning sensation desperately scrambling up his abdomen, begging for release. It clawed up his windpipe and try as he might to suppress it, the urge was too strong.

Estel reluctantly doubled over as a fit of coughs escaped him. It came in unending waves and shook his unwilling frame harshly. He couldn't breathe and had no choice but to forfeit control over his body while the hacking passed.

And as bad luck would have it (which it did more often than not in Estel's case, as he'd be the first to tell you), his uncontrollable coughing spasms jarred the log he stood on, causing it to sway unsteadily in the water. Still fighting to recover from his fit, Estel scrambled to find his footing on his suddenly unstable perch. The log continued to shift unpredictably under him, and his frantic scrambling proved unsuccessful—he lost his balance, and with an ungraceful splash, toppled into the water.

The water stung, it was so cold. It pierced his skin with an unexpected fierceness that caused Estel to gasp and sputter, frantically striving to get to his feet as fast as he could. The muddy waters were slick and it proved quite a challenge as Estel slipped and clambered towards dry ground.

Embarrassed and bewildered at his clumsiness, Estel climbed to the shore. He stood there, dumbfounded and dripping, staring out across the water. The stag, having undoubtedly heard the ruckus, had vanished. He silently cursed himself for such an unnecessary blunder. How could he be so stupid? The hunt was now certainly over, Estel realized dejectedly. He was already starting to shiver.

He bitterly wrung out what water he could from his tunic but it didn't help the situation. He was nearly completely soaked—his hair included—and he knew a change of clothing was imperative as soon as possible. The shivering was already growing in intensity.

Still mentally kicking himself, he fished his bow from the water and darkly turned to follow his tracks back through the wood.

The trudge back felt like an eternity. His fever was vehement; it burned his eyes and blurred the path in front of him. The shivering had long since advanced to his teeth, causing them to chatter loudly and uncontrollably. More than once he was overcome by yet another deep coughing fit, leading him to stumble and slip along the frosty forest floor.

He felt completely miserable and not entirely in control of his cumbersome body. And the cold, not to mention the cold! Don't think about it, he quickly admonished himself. Ignore it, don't think about how cold it is. If he didn't acknowledge it, it couldn't bother him, he reasoned irrationally. It seemed to make sense to him at the moment though. His thoughts were oddly jumbled and he couldn't seem to figure out why.

He forced himself to keep plodding onwards, reminding himself there had to be an eventual end to the cold at some point. Get back to his brothers, find dry clothes, warmth will ensue. And then the awful achiness plaguing him would be remedied too, right? Get warm, and all will be better. He ran his numb fingers across his brow. It would certainly be nice if he could stop and rest for a moment.

He was considering giving in to his weary body's request, when he suddenly noticed two figures approaching ahead. A brief flicker of alarm crossed his mind and he stiffened, wondering who on earth would be wandering these obscure parts of the woods.

And then he almost laughed at himself. Valar, he was slow today. Who _else_ would be roaming these obscure parts of the woods?

"Estel!" A familiar voice called out. His muddled mind couldn't distinguish which twin it was waving at him.

"We didn't think you'd be on your way back already!"

"No luck with the stag?" The other indistinguishable twin asked apologetically as they approached.

"We know Elladan agreed on two hours, but the horizon began looking awfully omin—" Elrohir trailed off briefly, squinting at his younger brother.

"Estel, are you—are you _wet_?"

Elladan was already rushing forward, closing the gap between them in mere strides. He grasped at his younger brother's tunic, his hair, his cheek, his forehead. Estel feebly tried to brush him off, but to no avail.

"What in Valar's name, Estel?!" Elladan asked incredulously after thoroughly assessing his younger brother. He tunic and hair was indeed quite wet, and the fever had already significantly worsened. And he almost couldn't believe his brother's teeth were still intact with all the violent chattering going on.

"Elbereth, Estel," It was Elrohir who was now peering closely at him. "How long have you been walking about like this? What happened?"

Estel tried to push them away. "I d-d-don't want to t-t-talk abou—" his voice was suddenly cut off by his tunic being pulled up over his face. "W-what are you mmmph—" He struggled weakly as his arms were drawn over his head, tangled in the fabric.

"Hold still," Elladan said, struggling with the squirming youth.

The tunic was pulled free and Estel took an obstructed breath. "What are y-y-you d-d-doing—?" he began again, trying in vain to push his older brother off him once more.

Ignoring him, Elladan tossed the wet tunic aside and reached for Estel's belt buckle. Estel was not having it. What was he, completely disabled? He gathered enough strength to give his older brother a decent push. "I c-c-can d-do it m-m-myself," he said angrily.

Still ignoring him, Elladan brushed his younger brother's weak struggles aside. "I said hold still," he repeated, quickly flinging the belt free. "Elrohir, find some dry clothes," his voice was urgent. He didn't notice Elrohir already rummaging through their packs.

"Ellad-d-dan!" Estel exclaimed in frustration. He hated being ignored. He couldn't stand being coddled. And it legitimately aggrieved him when the twins resorted to using physical force over him. It reminded him how weak he was in comparison.

Elladan was not the least bit concerned about his younger brother's pride at the moment, however. His only objective was to get him out those wet clothes as quickly as possible and to get him warm.

"Here," Elrohir said, practically tossing his brother the clothing he'd retrieved.

"Blankets," Elladan requested over his shoulder, fumbling with the dry clothes. "Arms up," he said, nudging his younger brother.

Estel indignantly resisted the urge to roll his eyes, anxious as he was to get into dry clothes, and complied without griping. Elladan pulled the dry tunic over him and helped him step into fresh trousers. Elrohir presently returned with a stack of blankets which Elladan hastily draped around their younger brother, wrapping them tight and pulling him close.

He briskly began rubbing Estel's arms and back, trying to create some decent heat through friction. Estel buried his face into his brother's chest, grateful for the warmth he found there. And he discovered smothering his face helped lessen the violent teeth-chattering.

"Valar, Estel, you're warm," Elladan said worriedly, feeling the heat radiating from his brother's face through his tunic.

"No, I'm f-f-freezing," Estel replied, his words stammered from Elladan's continued jolting movements.

"Your fever," Elladan clarified.

"Oh, y-yeah...I don't f-feel too well."

"Finally admitting it, is he?" Elrohir tried to offer a small smile as he joined them. He started slightly, taken off guard as Estel abruptly withdrew from Elladan.

Estel seized up, drawing away and gripping the blankets tightly around him as an unexpected fit overcame him. The coughs came, once again, from deep within, and they were forceful and insistent and seemed to be getting more harsh.

The twins watched, startled, as Estel gasped and fought to catch his breath. The fit refused to release him as a new coughing spell took hold each time he desperately tried to inhale a suitable amount of breath.

"Estel!" Elrohir gripped his brother in alarm.

"It'll pass," Elladan said, having also instinctively gripped the distressed youth. He lightly rubbed his back, "Just let it pass, Estel. Breathe."

Still doubled over, Estel attempted to suck in gulps of air, but each one seemed to trigger a new tickle deep inside. His lungs burned. He eyes watered. He couldn't breathe.

Finally, completely spent, the coughing seemed appeased. Estel would have sank to his knees had he not been supported by a brother on each side.

Genuine concern lined the twins' faces as they watched him tentatively, hoping the coughing fit was really over. They were almost afraid to lift him to his feet, worried any slight movement might trigger another attack.

Elrohir's eyes met Elladan's and they shared a glance that very well could have said as much as a conversation. They could usually tell when the other was thinking the same thing. And right now their eyes were telling each other that they were likely dealing with an infection in the lungs. Not good.

"Hey," Elrohir said gently, gingerly rubbing Estel's back. "You already admitted your illness, and we believe you. I don't think a demonstration like that was really necessary, was it?" he joked lightly, still softly patting his back.

Estel looked up in defeat. "I'm s-sorry," he moaned. "I j-just feel awful and those c-coughing fits won't...Ugh, it f-feels like my lungs are on f-fire." he paused with bated breath, hoping he wasn't about to trigger another one.

"It's okay," Elladan interrupted, trying to keep Estel from talking too much. It seemed to only be making him more upset. "Are you warming up yet, Estel? Your teeth are certainly still chattering up a storm." He could also feel his younger brother's form still quivering.

"A l-little," Estel said, finally regaining his footing. He pulled the blankets closer.

"Elladan," Elrohir said quietly, drawing his twin a pace or two away by his sleeve. When they were somewhat out of earshot of their shivering brother he said in a low voice, "What do we do? Should we attempt as much progress as we can towards home by nightfall, or should try and get him comfortable by a fire right now?"

Elladan thought a moment. "We need to get him home. You know as well as I pneumonia isn't anything to take risks with."

"Pneumonia?!" Elrohir asked, unable to keep the fearful dread from his voice. "We don't know it's that serious. It could just be a simple cold."

"Surely you're not referring to the same episode I just witnessed," Elladan said impatiently. "That's no simple cold. He was complaining of his lungs burning, Elrohir."

"All right, I know," Elrohir said, cutting the denial. "Still, there are plenty of relatively harmless infections humans can contract, and they end up getting over them just fine in a matter of time."

"Do _you _want to wait and see if this one ends up being harmless?" Elladan pressed.

"Relax, Ell, stop being belittling," Elrohir said a little irked.

Elladan immediately felt a little bad. He hadn't realized he'd unintentionally been acting antagonistic towards his twin. "I'm sorry," he said, the ire gone from his voice. "I'm just stressed about the situation. And I'm not entirely certain what the best course of action is for him." Elrohir knew his brother hated uncertainty.

They both glanced in the direction of their younger brother. He was standing huddled in the blankets, still shivering and seemingly unaware or completely uncaring that they were holding a conversation without him. A fact that made Elladan a little wary. Estel would normally be up in arms anytime he and Elladan were whispering about him.

"If we're going to try and make progress, we'd best get going now," Elrohir said. "You saw how dark the horizon appeared from the path. That storm can't be too far off." He looked up, hoping to catch a glimpse through the trees, but the wood was too thick.

"We need to find adequate shelter for Estel tonight."

"What about that cave Estel loved to play in when he was younger?"

"What cave?"

"You know," Elrohir insisted, hoping to jog his twin's memory. "That small cave he used to love building forts in when we'd take him out exploring. It shouldn't be too far from here. A few hours, perhaps."

"The forts with the pine bough 'curtains?'" Elladan asked, suddenly remembering. He smiled faintly.

"Yes," Elrohir said, his face breaking into an identical smile as he, too, thought back on the memories. "He thought draping those pine branches at the entrance was the most clever thing ever."

Elladan laughed, "And didn't you have to offer a secret password upon entering?"

"Of course. Estel wouldn't have it any other way," Elrohir laughed. "And if you didn't get it correct," he continued, "you'd get pelted with pine cones."

Elladan laughed softly, reminiscing.

They glanced over at Estel's huddled form still visibly shivering. He seemed to be off in his own miserable world, blankly staring at the ground as he was.

"Let's get going," Elladan said, watching Estel apprehensively as they rejoined him.

"One of us will need to ride with him," Elrohir said, approaching their horse to adjust the packs. "Help keep him warm."

"I'm fine walking," Elladan said.

Estel turned to them, bleary-eyed. They were talking about him like he wasn't there. If his scattered mind hadn't been questioning if he actually really was there, he would have been upset. But he felt strangely detached. His brothers seemed oddly urgent as they made ready to go. What was the hurry?

"Come on, Estel," Elrohir said, beckoning him over to the horse.

Estel regarded him sullenly. The thought of riding was both welcomed and off-putting. Welcomed because he was dying for some rest. And off-putting because he wasn't certain if he should be offended at the suggestion. He could walk just as far as the twins and then some. Were they suggesting he was too weak? Or was it because he had a bit of a fever? Maybe it was the coughing that led them to think he was inept? He wished his head wasn't so foggy at the moment. He couldn't seem to make sense of anything.

"Estel," Elrohir repeated, walking the horse over to him.

Estel just continued to stare blankly for a moment. Then he replied, "I'm fine to walk, too."

Elladan snorted. Tired of fooling around, he scooped his brother up in one swift motion and set him on the horse. Estel eyed him angrily, but was too exhausted to fight. Elrohir climbed up behind him and after adjusting the blankets for proper coverage, wrapped his arms tightly around him.

"We'll get you home soon, Estel," Elrohir said, holding him close as he nudged the horse forward . "Just try to warm up in the meantime, please."

To be continued.

As always, reviews are much appreciated. :)


End file.
